H  A  I  K  U     S  P  I  R  I  T
Ryu Yotsua

like hornbeam flowers let your poems hang down your body




snowbells are thinkers-   their flowers are prone to dream




dumped ashes-   a spider runs away from the rising dust




the cembalo piece's sound drops and lies... just like ashes





"how bitter dew on the grass are !"  the nymphs tell to each other 



My heart beats
like a swell
of sparrows

Summer morning ~
mist is coming up
in the shape of a shoe

sticking up in a vase ~
thunder's little brother!

Translation: Gilles Fabre

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